Clean bowled

Thirty minutes. That’s all it took, really. Just a half hour experience and I was a mellowed person, having acquired a deep reverence for life gifted by a lesser God…….

Cricket being the flavour of the season, a local NGO had organized a fund-raising cricket match of, and for, spastic children. I had agreed to go for simple reasons—sympathy for their cause and, admittedly or unadmittedly, the more important reason being that participation appeased my conscience with the feeling of having “done something” (so shamefully trivial, as it seems in retrospect) for these pathetic human beings whom society treats as its dark, ugly under-belly. They are not normally feted by society because they mar the beauty of the socio-cultural landscape; but they are there all the same, unacknowledged and unloved except by a very few.

Anyways, I have always been a cricket enthusiast and so off I went. I am thankful that I did. That match will remain etched clearly in my mind for a long time to come, so intense was its impact. There were no stylish shots, no superb bowling and definitely no stunning catches—nothing that could merit mention in Samsung or Bajaj Caliber cricket ratings. But what I witnessed was way beyond copybook cricket. It was a vignette of grit and sheer gumption, an effort to transcend all odds, and a quiet grace and dignity that brooked no pity but commanded a deep respect.

The experience made me deeply reflective. We are so quick to have these children neatly buttonholed as “mentally challenged” or “disabled” and, therefore, “inferior.” But how wrong, how very wrong we are. They can be our teachers in so many ways. We are ever ready to keel over or go ballistic over such trivialities; find the smallest of obstacles so unsettling; fly into a rage over minor roadblocks. In short, we are hard put to deal with “moments” of difficulty. In rapier contrast, these children with special needs are a study in patience, courage and immense strength which go beyond mental or physical shortcomings. Their inner resources and qualities shine through their disabilities and make them “special”. Dealing with bodies which are out of sync with the brain can be so frustrating, but seeing the diligence and perseverance of these children aroused in me a sensitivity in the truest sense, as different from charity or patronizing condescension.

I was witness to a lot of positive energy being unleashed which, sadly, did not always ensure 100% success, but there was pure joy all the same. They did not seem embarrassed by their gawky or ungainly movements; instead they seemed to celebrate the joy of being alive and proud to be able to “play” the much-loved game. These children were facing constant challenges—even motions which we take for granted require Herculean efforts from them—and yet they smiled the purest of smiles bereft of any rancour. They are not objects of pity, WE are, because we lack their inner strengths and resources to combat hardships. We buckle down so easily, they don’t. Sure they are “different” from us, but wonderfully so, if you can look beyond their physical deformities and appreciate the essence of their beings.

DISCLAIMER : Views expressed above are the author's own.

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Rumy Agarwal did her PhD in Clinical Psychology but gleefully opted to be a dedicated homemaker, totally devoted to the three men in her life—one wonderful husband and two bratty sons (who, in turn, pamper her silly)!! Of course, she knows that after God created man, he took one look and, horrified at himself, mumbled, “Surely I can do better than that!” Thankfully, he did—he created woman!! On the way she re-discovered her passion for pen-pushing (she used to be quite a prolific writer during her student life) and, in between her housewifely and motherly duties, she finds time to write regular columns for newspapers and articles/stories/poems for popular English magazines. She is an incurable romantic and believes that love is all about sharing the simple joys of life. She believes in doing away with false appearances and misplaced pride because life would be much simpler if we didn’t have an image to live up to.

Rumy Agarwal did her PhD in Clinical Psychology but gleefully opted to be a dedicated homemaker, totally devoted to the three men in her life—one wonderfu. . .